The clothes on her floor are always covered in regrets
Maybe that's why she walks over them when she flops into bed

The ones that smell like heartbreak are unfolded in the bottom drawer
She sleeps in them, the scents fueling her dreams

A pile of his shirts that look like him and smell like home
Sleep next to her like a missing person

When I visit, I borrow the hanging dresses that remind her of happy she will never feel again
They feel like her skin is on mine

I listen as she cries about  missing him
I tell her about how much I love her only when she sleeps